We stood in late, late grasses lost, br Bare feet in midst of soft white sand br Near trees so old that even they br Could not recall when they began. br br Still were we children, wistful, lone br In the sad autumn afternoon br Remembering, repining for br The days that disappeared too soon. br br In fresh sweet dews of early dawn br We played the hours out gladly, so br When days of August spent and hot br Retired we sadly watched them go. br br Then we were wise like children are. br When old trees shadow-voices called br We knew before they said our names br Our summer's interval had palled. br br But soon remembering, rejoiced br For though the winter lingers long br The old trees called, 'Don't grieve, ' they said, br 'Return of summer stirs e'erlong.